


Confessions of a Jealous Captain or Why Steve Rogers is Avoiding Everyone

by Winterstar



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Jealousy, Language, M/M, Pre-Slash, Science Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 18:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hmm, what's on the tin</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions of a Jealous Captain or Why Steve Rogers is Avoiding Everyone

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for howling-commandos for the cap_ironman gift exchange

Your recipient's name (to): Howling-commandos  
Title: Confessions of a Jealous Captain or Why Steve Rogers is Avoiding Everyone  
Rating: PG  
Universe: MCU  
Warnings: language  
Your username (from): winterstar95

According to Tony, the outer lining of the punching bag is constructed of a material similar to Kevlar. Steve slams his fist into the meat of the bag, hitting it in rapid succession. Every time he hears the echo of Tony’s voice explaining how the punching bag is reinforced to take a pounding from a super soldier it riles him up again, and he fires off another round into the bag. He knows he’s being illogical, irrational, and possibly even pigheaded, but he just can’t clear the thought of Tony from his brain – especially the thought of Tony and Bruce from his mental images.

This is not at all what he expected of the 21st century.

But then again, what he predicted of the 21st century had mainly grown out of silly science fiction and high tales from the likes of Tony Stark’s father (which only just sets Steve off again) like flying cars and living on the moon. He ravages the bag and notices the splatter of red across the side of it, nothing stops him, though. 

Except the voice ringing the alarms in his head that sounds suspiciously like Hawkeye. “Whoa, whoa, there. What’d the punching bag ever do to you, Cap?”

Steve slows a beat but doesn’t actually stop smashing his fists into the bag. “Not your business, Clint.”

“My shield brother and Captain, I would say that the Man of Birds-.”

“Hey,” Clint says.

“Is correct that there is some ill bothering you this bright and beautiful Christmas morning.”

“Hmm, Thor, not Christmas, not yet anyway,” Clint chimes in.

It is Thor who catches the bag in mid-swing causing the ricochet of his shot to its midsection to vibrate up Steve’s arm. He winces and steps back from the bag. 

“Really, not your business,” Steve says but he heaves in a breath and stares at the blood stains streaked down the side of the bag. He looks down at his wrapped hands; his knuckles will be hamburger – again. He starts picking off the wraps as he walks over to his duffle bag. “Really, just the same old thing. You know, living in the future. Everything I lost.” His voice doesn’t break but he keeps thinking about his foothold here in this future, his new present. He faces away from them, concentrating on his hands.

“My good Captain, there is something grievous bothering you,” Thor says but stays a few paces back – for which Steve is grateful. 

“I would rather not talk about it,” Steve says and shoves the bloody wraps in the bag, zips it up, and grabs his duffle. “Meeting at fifteen hundred, see you there.” He doesn’t look up, keeps his eyes focused straight ahead. He knows he’s being impolite and his mother would be shaking her head at his actions, but even he has limits.

When he arrives at his floor at the Tower, he tosses the bag, shrugs off his clothes, turns the faucets on hot in the shower, and walks into it. He braces his hands against the tiles, sees the damage he’s done. He frowns. He can be such an idiot sometimes. Ignoring it because it will heal – like everything else in his life it will be forgotten or he’ll just deal with it. He completes a military efficient shower because even in this opulent life he leads, he still doesn’t believe in waste. He towels off and runs a hand through his hair. It’s a mess but he’ll deal with it later. Wrapping a towel around his waist he grabs a hand towel from the rack and rubs it along his neck, and then slings it about his neck. 

He walks out of the bath to gather his clothes.

A long and drawn out whistle greets him. “Now, that is a sight my momma always warned me about, a sight that will send me straight to hell.”

Steve looks up from the pile of clothes to find Tony leaning against the door frame to his bedroom. 

“Tony.”

“You are a delicious specimen to drink in, you know that?” Tony smiles and it is that curve of the lips and wink of the eye that always sets parts of Steve into the high reaches of unrequited desire and want. 

“What do you need, Tony?” After Steve moved into the Tower and Tony invaded his space more than once, he started to learn to live with it. He protested abet weakly the first few times, but now he just realizes it is Tony’s routine, his character. Steve tries not to like it too much; after all he’s sure Tony barges into everyone’s suite of rooms at the Tower. 

“Lunch or so I am told,” Tony says and invites himself into Steve’s bedroom. He sits on the bed within the rumpled sheets. Steve hadn’t made his bed this morning before he went for his run and his work out. When he awoke, hot and frustrated, he decided the best thing to do was to work off the pent up energy and get his muscles pleasantly fatigued so that his body and mind would forget how distracting the future could be. He lies to himself like this – a lot.

“That’s good,” Steve says and throws the clothes in the hamper. He’s mildly embarrassed about the state of his room. He’s usually very orderly, but things have slowly been unraveling and he tries not to admit why. Inadvertently, he looks up at Tony and a wistful kind of ache spreads over his chest. Without thought, he touches his chest and moves into the bathroom.

“Well, yeah that’s good. Pep’s always complaining about how I don’t eat and when I do how I have choices of the bad variety. I keep telling her that she can have one or the other, not both.” 

Steve only says something akin to a grunt in response. He pulls out his single blade and starts to sharpen it on his leather strap. Once he’s done he gets the shaving cream and brush to dab it on his face. Holding the blade steady, he begins to shave.

“Wow, you still use a straight blade, you know there are disposable razors nowadays.”

It startles Steve just enough to nick his skin. He hisses and Tony enters further into the bathroom. In order to head him off, Steve says, “So lunch?” He tears off a sheet of toilet paper and blots the cut dry. It’ll be healed before he’s dressed. His beaten knuckles will take a little longer.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony says and Steve glimpses him in the mirror look down at the floor and then back up at Steve again. “I thought, well, we thought you might like to tag along.”

“We?” Steve scrapes around his nose being careful of the nostril but cutting it very close. 

“Yeah, you know, Bruce and I.”

Bruce, Steve thinks and his heart sinks. Of course, it would be Bruce. It’s always Bruce with Tony, they are an inseparable pair. Then it hits him that Tony said ‘tag along’ and the ache he felt earlier throbs anew but it slices through him like a ragged edged sword. It pricks himself with the blade again. It is deeper this time.

“Ouch, that has got to hurt. Seriously, sweetcheeks, there are easier ways to shave these days,” Tony says.

“I’m sure there are,” Steve says and whips around to glare at Tony. “Everything is convenient and easier these days. Everything from shaving to shitting.” He recognizes that makes no sense at all, but he has to stand by it so he does.

“Wh-what? Shitting?” Tony blinks and looks around as if he is searching for something. “You seriously did not just say shitting, because from what I understand that biological function is exactly the same.” He narrows his eyes at Steve, inspecting him. For a brief moment, Steve’s worried that Tony might actually be able to read his soul, flay him out, and expose his inner desires. 

“I don- I don’t want to go to lunch,” Steve says and leaves it at that. He turns back to the mirror and a thin rivulet of blood runs down his chin to his throat. He snatches more of the toilet paper and Tony tries to take it from him.

“Here, let me-.”

“No, go, go eat, Tony. You don’t need to help me shave. I’m quite capable of shaving on my own,” Steve snaps.

Tony studies him, sees his shredded knuckles and the smear of blood on his neck. He steps back and puts his hands in the air. “Hey, old man, whatever floats your boat.” He goes to leave but before he does, he cranes his head back in and says, “For what it’s worth, I still crap like everyone else.”

Steve is disgusted but still chuckles when Tony disappears. 

He hates that he smiled because he’s angry – and, well, something else if he really wants to admit it. He should admit it, just state it. So while he’s finishing up his shave and patting his skin dry, he says, “I’m in love with Tony.”

“Would you like me to inform sir of this fact, Captain Rogers?”

Steve jumps up and curses. “No, of course not.” Sometimes living in the future is more trouble than its worth. He mutters another curse and thinks he’ll need to go to confession before the holidays. 

He dresses and ends up in the communal kitchen because he still hasn’t gone out to grocery shop since their last mission. He could have JARVIS order everything for him like everyone else does, but he considers the act of buying his own food a kind of lesson in what the world is like today. Just the choices are dizzying.

He walks into the kitchen to find both Bruce and Tony busy at work fixing lunch. He stalls.

“I thought you were going out.”

“Changed our minds, Steve, you want to join us?” Bruce says and his look is so open and wide that Steve discovers himself accepting before he can turn tail and run. Just think of that, Steve Rogers – Captain America in need of an escape route.

“We’re having – what are we having again?” Tony turns to Bruce and there’s a look they share that seems intimate and special. 

Bruce rolls his eyes and it is sweet and fond and Steve feels like he’s intruding again. 

“No, no, I just remembered I have to run out and do an errand.”

“You have time to eat, don’t you Steve?” Bruce asks and at that particular moment Steve’s stomach grumbles – loudly and without prejudice. 

“Wowza, that big boy is hungry,” Tony says and claps his hands.

This is not what Steve needs, not when he’s spending vast amounts of his time defiling punching bags and not cleaning up his bed or rooms because he’s dreaming about dancing with Tony, kissing Tony, wanting to be with Tony. He colors – outrageously evidently considering the whistle Tony gives him.

“Oh you have a date,” Tony says and elbows him in the ribs. “You dog, you. And here I thought you were some 40s throw back to virginity and sweet apple pie.”

It offers him the needed escape, so he takes it and is never more grateful and remorseful at the same time. He agrees, probably too readily and easily makes his exit back to his floor. Where there is no food of the eatable variety.

He sits in his empty kitchen and stares at the ticking clock. He might have a can of Campbell’s soup – probably – he thinks that Clint brought it over once as a joke. Steve recalls he referred to it as throwback Thursday or something. As he gets up to check his barren cupboard for the item JARVIS picks that moment to pipe up.

“Captain Rogers, perhaps I might order you your favorite pizza.”

Steve slumps against the cupboard and thinks about how pathetic he is. He hadn’t even thought about ordering in, he’s that deep into his self-pity and longing. 

“This is ridiculous,” he says.

“If pizza is not to your liking, I could bring up a menu of different restaurants which may deliver to the Tower.”

Scrubbing a hand down his face Steve shakes his head, and says, “No, no. Pizza is fine, pizza is good.”

“As you say, Captain. Two pies, your regular order?”

“Yes.” Steve pushes away from the cupboard and then says, “No, no, JARVIS, I don’t need you to order anything. I’m fine.” He swings open the cupboard door and sees the lone can of chicken noodle soup. “I have lunch right here.” He finds some crackers which should be good. “And later I’ll go grocery shopping.”

“Again, Captain, as you say.”

JARVIS falls silent then, and Steve turns to warm up the soup. He ends up eating the entire bowl and all of the stale crackers. He spends the rest of the afternoon working on his newest ideas for land to air strategies. 

When he has to get ready for their meeting with SHIELD, Steve tidies up his apartment, puts on his commander uniform and heads out. He doesn’t wait for any of his team mates. He is the field commander after all and he can’t be friends – he shouldn’t be friends let alone lovers with any of his team. He made a promise, a vow, or something.

He gets through the meeting without too much of a disaster happening, though he finds it difficult to concentrate when Bruce and Tony whisper and chuckle with one another. He sees red every time and snaps at them to pay attention, that this isn’t the playground.

Bruce quirks an eyebrow at him and Steve can tell that Tony only fumes in response. Later as the meeting breaks up, and he prepares to head back to the Tower, Tony catches his arm and says to him, “Just because Miss Cutie Pie Date didn’t put out, don’t take it out on us.”

“What?” Steve says and then it all computes and he gets it. The fake lunch date. His mouth speeds faster than his brain though to answer, “There isn’t any Miss Cuti- there isn’t a dam- a girl – a woman. Sheesh, Stark, you really are a pain.”

Tony huffs and says, “You really do need to get laid.”

Steve yanks his arm free and says, “It has nothing to do with getting laid.” He wants to add – and everything to do with being in love and being jealous and not being able to have what he wants. “Good night, Tony.”

He leaves and hides out in his apartment at the Tower that night. He tries to rationalize with himself that there’s no reason for him to be in love with Tony. They are polar opposites. Different in so many ways. Tony is brash and arrogant, while Steve is righteous and humble. Well, he supposes that if he’s labeling himself humble he’s really not _that_ humble. He can’t be humble and be proud of it – that’s an oxymoron.

“Geez,” Steve says and ruffles his hands through his hair. Tony just mixes him up so much, sets him off his game, tilts the world and shakes it up – all while laughing and enjoying himself so much – it physically hurts Steve. 

He doesn’t believe he’s ever enjoyed himself as much as Tony takes such guileless pleasure in the world. He wonders if he’s just not envious of whom Tony is. He decides to figure it out by actually spending some time with Tony. He’ll keep it nice and light and with others, definitely with others.

Movie night rolls around – and they only do movies once a month at the Tower. Each and every one of them has too much to do to find the time to get together once a week. Even at once a month, usually some of them are missing. 

Steve tries to participate because as the leader he needs to find time to do what they call teambuilding. He’s not sure what the concept actually means but Agent Hill assures him movie night will suffice. He thinks he would just like to bring everyone to the local pub and drink some beers. 

Movie night is what they all agreed on, so he decides not to rock the boat.

It is one of those rare occasions when the whole team gathers around the television and settles in to watch a long movie. The team is always considerate of Thor and his own issues with familiarity of cultural references and usually goes with something that does not necessitate a strong understanding of modern day culture. 

The choice for this evening is _The Fellowship of the Ring_. Steve settles on the recliner and watches as Clint and Natasha shares what Tony vulgarly refers to as the two ass chair. Thor takes the only other recliner as Tony and Bruce occupy the couch. There are snacks galore spread out over the coffee table and the end tables. At one point Pepper walks in and sits on the arm of the chair near Natasha. They whisper a few times but Pepper eventually ends up leaving after a quick word with Tony. 

This draws Steve’s attention to Tony. He always worries about Tony – after his break up with Pepper, the removal of the arc reactor, the whole Malibu incident. It all culminated into a series of horrible events. Tony seemed unscathed afterwards but Steve’s learned Tony has a tendency to hide things through diversion and distraction. He diverts others attention by playing outrageously and acting up ridiculously while he distracts himself with tinkering and mechanical toys. 

As the movie plays, Steve watches Tony and Bruce interact. There’s an easy grace to it, something that bespeaks casual ease and friendly knowing. For Steve, it is foreign and hard and drains away the color from the world. When Steve studies them together, he realizes their world is colored in multi-hues while Steve’s is sepia toned and ugly. He thinks of Bucky but shuts out that train of thought quickly; he doesn’t want to go there, to what he’s lost.

Before Frodo and his little crew even get to see the Elves, Steve excuses himself and disappears to his floor. He should stay for the rest of movie night, but he can’t watch Tony with his arm slung over the sofa back, as if he’s just stretched out and not telegraphing his embrace of Bruce. Even when Bruce made the popcorn and tossed a few pieces, Tony laughed as they bounced off of his face instead of landing in his mouth. Steve’s certain Tony would have thrown a sarcastic remark toward Steve, if he’d done it. If he’d ever have the courage to try.

He thinks he’s become the biggest coward who’s supposed to be a superhero.

There’s only one solution – and that is to throw himself into his work –and so he does. He becomes the work and defines himself only as Captain America. He hits the gym for hours every day, he spends countless hours with Fury and Hill going over strategies and tactics. He wears himself out, until he’s too tired to think about friendships and love and jealousy and envy.

He transforms into the paragon of a team leader.

Everyone seems happier for it. Anytime they are called out, he’s prepared with the plans and tactics in his head. When Tony asks him to call it, he does without hesitation. The claps on the shoulder and smiles he receives from his team mates on a job well done are enough he tells himself.

As the first snow falls and Christmas season deepens until the whole of the city pulses with it, Steve feels like he might be a snowflake, drifting slowly toward the inevitable demise on the warm pavement of New York City. Snowflakes are perfect in their crystalline structure but they are fragile and fragmentary in their persistence. He might be the perfect soldier but he’s not the good man he promised to be. He feels hollowed. 

Standing near the large balcony windows and watching the snow fly he doesn’t notice Bruce until he’s standing beside him.

“’Tis the season,” Bruce says.

“I suppose.”

“Wasn’t like this when you were younger?” Bruce says it like it is a question but Steve knows it is not. He doesn’t want to become friends with Bruce. He wants to stay apart from him.

“We didn’t have much,” Steve says but doesn’t really want to invite anymore discussion. He turns to walk away, to shrug off the discussion and the invitation to talk with Bruce into the shadows.

Bruce has other plans. “Can you tell me what I did?”

Steve stops and stares into the darkened communal living room. It is where they have movie night, it is adjacent to the kitchen where Steve wanders in the early mornings, but then disappears from again if Bruce is there. Any time he ventures upon Bruce or Bruce and Tony Steve has found a way to excuse himself, to make a quick escape, to leave and not have to face down the truth.

“What you did?” He almost says it like a challenge.

“I’ve learned to be a pretty perceptive guy, Steve. I’ve had to because of – well, you know. And what I see is that you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’m not-.” And he cannot go through with the lie. Maybe it is the spirit of his mother frowning down at him or it is the thought of lying at such a time of the year, or maybe it is just Bruce – because Bruce didn’t do anything wrong. All the wrong lies on his shoulders.

“Did I say something?” Bruce walks to his side. “Did I do something as the other-.”

Steve needs to stop this train of thought immediately. “No- not at all.”

Bruce has his glasses folded in his hands and he bows his head but still looks up at Steve. “There’s something, Steve.”

Steve looks everywhere but at Bruce, he doesn’t want to admit anything. “I did exactly the wrong thing.” 

“The wrong thing?”

“Yeah, yeah, I became the perfect soldier, but I’m not a good man.”

Bruce chuckles and it lifts his shoulders in a subtle shake. He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head before he looks up at Steve. “No, when did you ever think you became a perfect soldier?”

“It’s what I am – a soldier, Captain America.”

“Well, a perfect soldier is by definition someone who follows orders, marches to his superiors’ tune from what I understand.” Bruce studies him.

“Yes.” He knows where this is going.

“Yes, and everyone on this team knows that you openly and with impunity defy SHIELD all the time.”

Steve quirks a smile. “Maybe not with impunity.”

“Maybe not such a strong word, but each and every one of us have watched as you’ve called out plays and strategies that they’ve forbade Steve, so don’t go to that perfect soldier cover.”

“Maybe not,” Steve agrees. 

“You are a good man, though,” Bruce says and doesn’t allow Steve to answer him. He disappears into the whisper of the darkened room. Before he hits the elevator button to leave, he turns around and Steve can only see a partial shadow. “You’re hiding for a reason, and I think I know why. He’s just waiting. He thinks you’re a good man, you know. He’s just waiting for you to open the door.”

Before Steve can respond the elevator arrives and Bruce departs, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts and his dissipating jealousy.

The words follow him like a ghost from Christmas past or present or future, the words trail after him. They become a residual echo of what he dreams and wants and desires. They take on other meanings and hopes.

_Just waiting for you_

Those four words turn into a lifeline of wishes. He finds himself waking in the middle of the night, shivering with anticipation but immobilized by fear and trepidation to do anything about it. Even as Christmas approaches and he purchases gifts and helps decorate the Christmas tree, the words spirit around him like dancing elves. He’s both happy and terrified by them. 

He’s trying to decide where the little robot ornaments that Tony insists have to grace the tree should go when the man of the hour (or his dreams) walks to join the gathering. All of the team is present now. Tony’s pulling off a tie and slinging it over the back of a chair. 

As he tugs off his suit jacket, he says, “Put it front and center, heart of my hearts.”

Steve startles at the endearment and purposefully walks to the farthest side of the tree and hangs the little robot decoration hidden in the branches. 

“The Ice Prince is breaking my heart on purpose.”

Steve peers out from the back of the tree. “You don’t like how I decorate the tree; maybe you should chip in and help out.”

“Yeah, Stark, here’s a whole box of balls.” Natasha shoves it at Tony.

Tony raises an eyebrow and says, “I got enough balls, thank you very much.” He takes the box anyway and steps up to the tree. Steve is now trapped as Tony sidles along the back to start hanging the little satin red balls.

Tony looks at Steve but then back to the tree. “Are you studying something back there, Capsicle?”

“No, just checking the lights.” Steve frowns. They didn’t have little tiny lights like this when he went down. Mostly they had big electric bulbs or candles, but that was just a fire hazard. 

“Is there one out?” Tony says and places the box on the floor to squeeze in next to Steve. The only light on in the large communal living space is the tree and it is magnificent – all twenty-two feet of it, glittering and throwing light against the warm glow coming from the fireplace.

“I don’t think-.” But now, Steve can’t talk or say anything else because Tony stands so close to him Steve can feel the vibration of his breathing, smell the fragrance of his cologne even over the pine scent from the tree, and feel his presence deep inside his bones. It is heavy and weighty and overwhelms all of Steve.

“Have you gotten me anything for Christmas, yet?” Tony whispers and his eyes dance and sparkle in the twinkling light of the tree.

“I- I,” The answer is no because he can’t find anything that fits, that expresses exactly what he wants to say to Tony. “Maybe, I’m still considering.”

“Can I make a request?” Tony says. “Consider it a clue?”

“Hmm, yeah, I guess.” There’s not much room behind the tree and Steve pushes up against the corner of the room. But he’d like to press forward, to touch Tony, to imbibe Tony. 

Tony leans in, so close that his breath streams hotly over Steve’s collar bone, his throat. “How about you?”

His legs feel weak but he stays standing, looking down into the depths of Tony’s eyes. He sees the desire he holds in his heart, in the well of his body displayed there. “Me?” It doesn’t sound weak but more of a challenge.

“Do you dare, soldier boy?” Tony sneers just a little, and it isn’t cruel or evil just enticing and lovely.

Steve pushes back and slides his hand around to cup Tony’s head in his grasp. Steve yanks him close and presses his advantage. He lets instinct and want and need take over. He opens his mouth and tastes of the nectar he’s longed for, hungered for, and it is pure pleasure and perfect and alluring all at once. He thoroughly explores the kiss, moves in and runs his hands along Tony’s stubble and neck and down his flank. By the time he breaks away, he’s panting and Tony swoons a little. This makes Steve smile.

As he brushes by Tony, he murmurs, “Do you?”

Tony laughs and Steve knows this Christmas he’ll receive exactly what he’s wished for, all these years, the perfect partner.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://winterstar95.tumblr.com)
> 
> DFTBA


End file.
